


Countervalue

by aralias



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e08 Hostage, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Countervalue is the targeting of an opponent's assets which are of value but not actually a military threat." Blake and Avon have sex after 'Hostage'. That's basically the plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Countervalue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elviaprose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elviaprose/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Контрценность](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10316567) by [Kollega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kollega/pseuds/Kollega)



> This is so fluffy it has to be an AU. I hope you enjoy.

It was more a bruise, really. Not even a scratch. Avon had been embarrassed, down on the planet, to be coddled by Blake after sustaining what he’d known was only a minor injury, and he was embarrassed now, sitting half-naked in the medical room as Blake finished rolling the tissue-regenerator over the barely damaged skin of his arm. Cally would have been a preferable nurse, but Blake had insisted and what Blake wanted Blake would apparently always get. 

Apparently at the moment what he wanted was to stare knowingly but silently at Avon while he healed his practically non-existent wounds.

“You’re not going to ask me why I did it?” Avon asked. 

“No,” Blake said, and returned to the silent but intense healing. 

Avon grimaced at the failure of his initial gambit. The silver survival-suit he’d worn down on Exbar was unzipped to his naval and pooled around his waist. He felt ridiculous and exposed, which was undoubtedly what Blake was aiming for. “Because you don’t care?” he said in an attempt to force Blake to deny it. 

“Because I already know why you did it," Blake said, effectively closing down that avenue of conversation as well. He pulled the tissue regenerator away from Avon’s arm, and put it down on the table next to the recliner Avon was sitting on. 

“You don’t mind if I don’t share your reticence?” 

“I beg your pardon?” Blake asked. 

“That is probably what I should be doing,” Avon said. “Begging your pardon,” he explained, when Blake raised an eyebrow, “but I’m not going to, so if you’re expecting that to come out of this meeting I’m afraid you are going to be disappointed.”

“I don’t.”

“No, I didn’t think you did,” Avon said. “Why did you kiss your cousin goodbye like that?”

“Why do you think?”

“I think it’s the same reason you cosied up to me on Exbar after I was wounded. The same reason you’ve just healed my arm. And, coincidentally, the same reason I told Servalan that Travis was on Exbar.”

“Is it really? And why's that?”

“So, now you want me to say it.”

Blake shrugged. 

“But you... already know,” Avon said.

“Indulge me,” Blake said expansively. 

Avon grinned at the challenge. “All right then,” he said. Did Blake think he wouldn’t say it? “You know that I’m in love with you. Somehow you have correctly guessed that the most effective way to punish me for daring to disobey your orders, something I only did in this case because I was in love with you and wanted you to be safe, would be to repeatedly humiliate me on this point. The kiss I can never have, the hand on my hip that will torment me for weeks, the patronising care for my well-being. I congratulate you, Blake. It is one of your more brilliant schemes. But now the thing is out in the open, perhaps you could stop. I find it rather tiresome.”

Blake smiled to himself. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“So you should be,” Avon said grimly. The confession had clearly not surprised Blake, which meant Avon had been right to think that making it, and revealing that he knew what Blake was doing had been a good idea, rather than something that would make Avon himself vulnerable. 

“But you’re not even half right,” Blake said. 

Avon raised an eyebrow, and Blake laughed and came closer. 

“I kissed my cousin goodbye,” he said slowly, “because we were close friends once and she’s grown to be a woman I’m very proud to call my relation. I kissed _you-_ ”

“You haven’t kissed me,” Avon began, breaking off as Blake pressed his lips against Avon’s, cupping Avon’s face in one of his large hands. 

“Ah,” Avon said when he pulled away. He felt rather dizzy. “I stand corrected. Go on. Why did you do that?”

“Because, as little as I want to encourage you to disobey me,” Blake said, “I _am_ touched that you tried to protect me. And that you risked your life to rescue me once it became clear that what you’d done was to put me in further danger.”

“You find that touching, do you?”

Blake inclined his head. “Your repeated and poorly concealed heroism is one of the reasons I love you. This was a particularly gross example, and I wanted to reward you.”

“How magnanimous. But gross is an appropriate word,” Avon said. “As usual, my behaviour was-” He paused as his brain processed Blake’s statement. He tilted his chin inquiringly up at Blake to check that he had heard correctly and Blake grinned like the smug git he was. 

“ _Yes,_ that is why I cosied up to you on Exbar,” Blake said. “And I insisted on healing your arm because I was worried that you were seriously hurt.”

“Unnecessarily,” Avon said, with a grimace. 

“As it turned out,” Blake agreed.

“I did try to tell you.”

“I thought that was more of your indiscreet heroism,” Blake said. Avon made a face, and Blake grinned. “I also knew you would have to take off most of your suit before I could inspect your arm.”

Avon raised his eyebrows. If that was true, then perhaps the nudity wasn’t ridiculous at all. If Blake was _enjoying_ it… He flicked his eyes down to Blake’s crotch and found proof that Blake was definitely enjoying it straining towards him through the tight fabric of Blake’s survival suit. Avon’s own erection (which had been nagging at him since Blake had first begun gently touching the bare flesh of his arm) twitched under the empty sleeves of his own suit, which were folded around his waist and had been effectively hiding his arousal for the last ten minutes. Avon looked up at Blake. Blake raised his eyebrows and Avon sighed. “Well, this is embarrassing.”

“For you or for me?” Blake asked. 

“Three incorrect assumptions,” Avon said. “And only one correct one. Twenty five percent is not an impressive or satisfying score, Blake, however you look at it.”

“What if I looked at it like this?” Blake said and leaned in to kiss him again. This time Avon dragged him down and kept him there. One of Blake’s hands came down hard next to Avon’s head to steady himself, and then he scrambled up onto the recliner. His weight pressed down onto Avon, gloriously heavy, and Avon lifted his hips to rub against Blake, wrapping one leg around the back of Blake’s knees to bring him in even closer. 

He tilted his head back to breathe and give Blake access to his neck. “That didn’t actually make sense,” he said as Blake obligingly sucked at the point where Avon’s pulse raced beneath his skin. He dug his fingers into Blake’s arms, and Blake kissed his way back up Avon’s jaw. 

“Yes, I take your point.”

“This time I’d prefer to take yours,” Avon told him.

“Now that _does_ make sense, but it’s not very original,” Blake said, sounding disappointed.

“We don’t have to do this at all,” Avon pointed out. 

“Wrong again, Avon,” Blake said. “Four times in as many minutes. How do you manage it?” Avon abandoned caressing Blake's arse to hit him on the arm. Blake laughed and slid off the recliner to stand on the floor. “Get undressed. 

“Another order, Blake?” Avon said, but he was already toeing off his boots. Blake had unzipped his own survival suit and now he shrugged it off his shoulders. He was wearing an almost predatory grin, and his eyes didn’t leave Avon as Avon raised his hips and tugged the bottom of his suit down and off, along with his underwear and his socks. Avon spared a moment to smirk at the way Blake’s eyes flicked apparently involuntarily to Avon’s cock, and then he turned onto his front to give Blake a good view of his arse. He spread his legs invitingly and heard the sound of Blake struggling out of his shoes and his suit in double-quick time. 

Then there was the light pad of Blake’s bare feet on the floor and the clatter and clunk of various jars being shifted around as he tried to find the medical lubricant. The knowledge that Blake was going to fuck him in the next few minutes, that Blake was in the process of finding something that would help him fuck Avon more easily, was unbelievably distracting. Avon stretched and began to rub himself off on the recliner, and Blake returned to slap him lightly across the buttocks. 

_“Stop it.”_

“You were taking too long,” Avon lied. 

“Oh dear, I am sorry,” Blake said and pushed what felt like at least two slick fingers up into Avon. 

_“Fuck,”_ Avon hissed as Blake began fluttering his fingers like someone playing a trill on a piano. “You could have-” he meant to say ‘warned me’, but Blake pulled his hand back and when the fingers returned there were three of them and they shoved in hard, and Avon let out a loud, high groan instead. Each stab of Blake’s fingers brought forth another groan, and Avon pressed his face into the recliner to try and muffle them. Pleasure and agony coursed along his nerve endings, intertwining and tugging at his heart and his cock. Blake laughed at the only slightly muffled whimpering, and pressed a kiss into the curve of Avon’s back. Avon’s hips spasmed forward of their own accord. The sound of Blake laughing had always gone straight to Avon’s groin, and now it seemed the touch of his lips would do that too, to say nothing of the skillful tickling of his fingers against Avon’s prostate. 

“Not too fast?” Blake asked, sounding amused. 

Avon reached out with the hand closest to Blake and grabbed him by the hip bone. _“Fuck me,”_ he demanded hoarsely, tugging Blake towards him. 

“ _Not_ too fast, then,” Blake said, pulling his fingers out in a rush that made Avon gasp. The recliner creaked slightly as Blake climbed onto it, and Avon squirmed at the first delicious touch of Blake’s skin against his. One of Blake’s hands appeared in his eyeline and Avon licked it. He spread his legs wider. The hard, wet shape of Blake’s cock brushed tantalisingly against his arse as Blake shifted his weight, bracing himself against the recliner with the hand near Avon’s mouth. Then Avon felt Blake press his buttocks apart, and then there was the hot, blunt end of Blake’s cock forcing its way into him. Avon’s hands tightened around the edge of the recliner and he pushed his arse backwards. Blake grunted appreciatively, and Avon relaxed his muscles to let Blake push in the rest of the way. 

When he was completely sheathed, Blake let Avon take the rest of his weight. His smooth chest pressed up close to Avon’s back and his mouth moved in the crook of Avon’s shoulder.

“All right?” Blake murmured and Avon wriggled slightly, feeling Blake inside him and surrounding him, the smell of Blake heady in his nostrils and the touch of Blake’s lips on his neck. 

_“Yes,”_ he said in one low, slow hiss, which seemed about to cover it. Everything was right. Everything was perfect, in fact. To think that an hour earlier he’d imagined he would have to spend the evening trying not to masturbate to the memory of Blake’s chaste almost-embrace on the Exbar hillside. 

Blake’s right hand fastened over Avon’s on the edge of the recliner and Blake’s hips moved back, his cock pulling out of Avon in a delicious, slow drag. Then Blake shoved himself back into position with the strength of his hips and the arm gripping the recliner. 

“Oh,” Avon gasped, _“yes,”_ he hissed as Blake pulled back again. “Yes, Blake- _Ah._ Oh, _god.”_ Blake’s thrusts became punishingly hard and Avon could hear himself crying out again and again with each repeated jab to his prostate. The sound was wordless now, which was probably for the best. 

“You’re so loud,” Blake panted. A part of Avon’s brain wanted to respond to that, but most of him was concentrating on how incredible being fucked by Blake was. And he was glad he hadn’t said anything, when Blake said, his voice low and breathless, “So loud, so sexy-” 

Avon clenched his arse and Blake’s rhythm stumbled. _“Avon,”_ he said, like it was a swear word, and Avon almost managed to laugh before Blake thrust again, but this time the whimpering sound from Avon’s own throat was joined by another low recitation of his name from Blake. Blake bit down on Avon’s shoulder, presumably in an attempt to stop himself, and apparently that was what did it. A sharp pain to contrast with the dull ache inside him.

Avon gasped as he came, his fingers clenching around the edge of the recliner. And then Blake groaned and stiffened, and Avon knew Blake had come inside him - had come because of him, inside him. How satisfying.

If only he could still breathe. Blake’s weight, which had been astonishingly erotic and comforting during the sex, now seemed to be crushing him. “Blake?” Avon said, reaching back to slap him on the leg when he didn’t move. _“Blake-”_

“Hm,” Blake rumbled thoughtfully. Avon felt a kiss pressed into the back of his neck and Blake shifted enough to pull out of him, but not actually off him. “Eighty percent,” he said.

Avon frowned, twisting his head to look at Blake. “What?”

“You’re improving,” Blake told him. “Eighty percent is both impressive and satisfying-” 

He made a rather undignified noise as Avon raised his shoulder and rolled sideways, dumping Blake a metre onto the hard floor. Blake looked up at Avon balefully as Avon sat up and stretched, loosening the crick in his neck.

“You’re upset about the other twenty percent.”

“No. Why would you think that?” Avon said. “I wanted to breathe. You were slow to take the hint.”

“I took off five percent for the slap,” Blake told him. He rubbed at the part of his leg that had collided with the ground until it was obvious Avon wasn’t going to apologise, and then rested his weight back on his hands, his legs stretched out in front of him. It was probably just a relaxed pose, rather than a chance to point his cock in Avon’s direction - still, Avon noticed. 

Blake nodded as he did whenever he was adding another item to a list. “And another ten percent for pushing me off the lounger.”

“Something I hadn’t done at the point at which you gave your score,” Avon said, looking at the far wall instead of at Blake.

“No,” Blake agreed, “but I knew you’d contrive to ruin the moment somehow, so I factored it in.”

Avon threw the tissue regenerator at his head, but Blake moved easily out of its flight path. “And there’s the other five.”

“I can count,” Avon told him. 

“And I know you very well,” Blake said. He pushed himself forwards with his hands and pressed a kiss to Avon’s bare foot, which was now hanging close to his face. “So, when you think about it, we’re both winners.”

Avon used the foot to push him backwards, and jumped down off the recliner. “But you rather more than me.”

Blake shrugged, and then he grinned as Avon pressed him back against the floor. “What can I say, Avon?” 

“Well,” Avon said, “I suppose you _could_ beg my pardon again.” He kissed the end of Blake’s chin. “Or,” he said, moving lower, “you could beg me to fuck you. If you don’t mind, I think I would prefer the latter. As a rule, I don’t believe in apologies.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Blake said. “You really want to try again already?” he asked as Avon’s hand closed around his cock.

“Are you busy?” Avon asked him.

“I understand I soon will be,” Blake said.

*

“How's Avon?” Jenna asked when Blake returned to the flight deck. 

“He'll be all right,” Blake told her and frowned in an attempt to ignore the rather distracting flashback the word ‘Avon’ had just conjured up. He stepped up onto the raised pilot’s level. “Flight plan ready?”

“Quite ready,” Jenna said coldly.

“Then take us out of here,” Blake said. He registered the tone and turned to her, because it was odd. She’d never spoken to him like that before. “Speed standard by twelve.

Jenna breathed in, as though she was going to say something else, and then said, “Standard by twelve.” Blake looked away from her in bemusement as the ship began to move, and then he realised that neither of the others were saying anything either. 

“What’s _wrong_ with everybody today?” he asked, walking over to Vila’s console. 

“Nothing,” Cally said quickly. 

“It’s really none of our business,” Vila said. 

“But those chairs _are_ communal property, Blake,” Jenna said from behind him. 

“I’m sorry?” Blake said, turning back to her.

“I only hope you _wiped_ them thoroughly once you were done,” Jenna said pointedly. 

Blake gaped at her in horror. "You _heard?"_

"To be honest," Vila said, "I'd be surprised if there was anyone in the galaxy who didn't."

With spectacularly bad timing, Avon chose this moment to bound down the stairs to the flight deck, clearly in a better mood than he’d managed at any point over the past year. The smile made him very handsome, suddenly, and Blake experienced another very awkwardly timed flashback - this time of the second fuck, Avon grinning above him, his hair sticking in the sweat on his forehead and his cock buried in Blake’s arse. Blake bit down hard on one of his own fingers to distract himself before anyone noticed, but fortunately everyone else had turned to look at Avon too.

Avon’s smile faltered. “What is it?” he asked.

Blake walked over to him. The silence lengthened. “They know,” he said quietly and indicated the others with a slight jerk of his head. 

Avon’s eyes darted past Blake to look at Jenna and then returned to Blake’s face. “Are you sure?” 

Blake thought about this for less than a microsecond. _“Yes,”_ he said wearily. 

“Well, then,” Avon said, “in that case,” and he dragged Blake down into a kiss. 

“Not my eyes as well as my ears!” Vila wailed. “I _need_ my eyes.”

There was a brief pause and then he said, "Well, if nobody's going to stop this-" Then there was the crack of a flash bulb. Cally said "Vila!", and Avon pulled his tongue out of Blake’s mouth.

“Vila, did you just take a photograph?”

“What?” Vila said, lowering the camera. “For posterity,” he explained to Jenna. “Nobody’s ever going to believe this.”

Avon grinned. “Send a copy back to Exbar,” he said, dragging Blake out of the room by his tunic. “Make sure Inga sees it.”

“She’s my _cousin!”_ Blake protested.

“And now, Blake,” Avon said, grinning, “we are both winners.”


End file.
